


The First Return of Kara Thrace

by useyourlove



Series: The Five Returns of Kara Thrace [1]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourlove/pseuds/useyourlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee hovers over Kara in sickbay. Takes place during and after "You Can't Go Home Again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Return of Kara Thrace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the-applecart](http://the-applecart.livejournal.com), [Challenge 002](http://the-applecart.livejournal.com/1886.html). [Also posted on LJ at wartytoads](http://wartytoads.livejournal.com/8532.html). Some dialog from the show is used--that's not mine. I borrowed it. This one is fairly fluffy but you can, of course, see where I'm setting you up for canonical angst later. Location prompt was "sickbay."

The first time she comes back from the dead he figures that he's used up his entire lifetime's supply of karma. This was it. He's done. And he is completely ok with that. He doesn't even stop to consider that he might need more--that she'll ever die on him again. The thought is completely alien to him. She's here. Now. Back from the dead.

Bitterly, later, he'll ruminate on what a habit she would make it.

He rushes to the raider, hovering anxiously to the side as the belly of the thing opens and she falls out in a tired heap, covered in goo. The medics are at the ready, hurrying forward to see to the injured pilot and he knows he should stay out of their way, but he can't. He _cannot_. And he rushes to her in their wake. They're rolling her over, pulling the gurney forward, and he's got his hand in hers and she's trying so hard to not let the pain show on her face. Her knee looks like someone took a sledgehammer to it. He wants there to be some kind of magical power in his fingers to take the pain away. As it is, he doesn't touch it. She pulls back from him so she can lean backwards on her hands, shifting her weight around until she can stretch her leg out straight.

"Ow, mother _frakker_."

His hands are on her shoulders now. He can't. He has to touch her. He needs to be touching her. To make sure she's here. She's solid. She's alive. _Alive_. After he'd given her up for dead. Leave it to Starbuck to frak around with him like this.

"You gonna tell me the story or do I have to imagine it?"

He leans around to her side to get a look at her face. She's gritting her teeth and he's waiting--waiting for the classic snark, the punchline, the cutting remark. She just laughs that little cackling laugh and looks him in the eye. He can see how much it hurts and he gives her shoulders a squeeze.

Of course, she's trying to be Starbuck--all swagger and no brains--so she grabs hold of his knees where he's crouched behind her and pushes herself up off the ground, slowly, slowly standing up straight as he rises behind her, holding most of her weight. She leans against him even as she tries to look like she's not.

"Make you a deal?"

"What kind of a deal?" she grits out.

"I make it up and you tell me if I'm right."

She cackles again--a strained sound, but it's the sweetest music he's ever heard in his entire life. She's warm beneath his fingers. He doesn't want to let her go. Even as the medics are wheeling over the gurney, even as they're dropping it down slightly so that she can crawl onto it, he doesn't let her go.

She settles against it, the medics holding it steady while she tries to hop the last few inches to sit on it.

"Starbuck?"

"What?" her voice breaks.

"I'm going to pick you up."

"No you frakkin' are not."

But he's got one arm under her shoulders and another ever so gingerly braced beneath her knees and he crouches, scooping her the last few inches onto the gurney. Her face contorts and her hands twist into the front of his flight suit but she makes no noise.

"You owe me, Apollo."

"What for? Picking you up?"

"For trying to shoot me down." One of the medics is peeling at her flight suit and she's laid out passively like a slug. He can see all the fight going out of her--see the adrenaline draining out of her system and leaving a cold, hurt, scared little girl in its wake. It makes him want to hit something. It makes him want to scoop her to him and carry her off and never let anyone else see her again not ever. He wants to keep her for himself. She's submitting to all the needles and tubes and fluids that the medics are so calmly and efficiently working into her. He just wants to tuck her in. He reaches for the blanket at her feet.

"I'm just glad the positions weren't reversed," he says.

"Hm?"

"I wouldn't expect you to miss."

That got a Starbuck grin. That got precisely the Starbuck grin that he'd been fishing for the entire time. He could hoard her all to himself right now. He wouldn't feel the least bit guilty about it until she started throwing punches.

She clears her throat, trying to settle, trying so hard to be tough for him--for all of them--to put on a show. He smirks at that. He never thought he'd miss all that bravado. "Like my new toy?" she quips.

He smiles, playing back, eyes only for her.

"Boy when you take a souvenir," he says, tucking the blanket securely around her, "you don't screw around."

She grins, laughing.

He realizes, belatedly, that he feels like he's tucking a little girl into bed. A stinky little girl. "Oh my god, you smell like a latrine."

"Hmm." Something's coming, he knows it, he sees it on her face, and his heart rises in anticipation. "You wanna gimme a bath?"

She cackles as they roll her away, her zinger still floating in the air, and he can't even move, rooted to the spot by adrenaline and elation and gods knows how many other things he's not prepared to put a name to. Socinus brings him his post-flight checklist, but hovers back.

Lee doesn't have the energy to collect himself. His face is a wide open one-man show. "Yes, Specialist," he finally says.

"Your checklist, sir. And um..." Socinus clears his throat. "And Lieutenant Thrace's sir?"

Lee just gives him a look. An incredulous little look. "Check her in."

"I uh..." Socinus looks bashful and the feeling is coming back to Lee's legs so all he wants to do is chase after her down the hallways of _Galactica_ , hovering like a mother hen.

"Spit it out."

"Well, sir, I thought you'd want to do it."

Lee smiles to himself, his face lighting up so brightly that Socinus smiles. "Yeah," Lee says. "I do."

He heads to the flight board--the one that Chief uses to keep track of which birds are where and which pilots are in or out. He takes Kara's marker, lifts it off the hook, and slams it back onto the hanger it calls home with a loud clatter. He's grinning from ear to ear, his fingers caressing the metal for one brief second too long before turning on his heel and hurrying up the steps to the catwalk. Socinus stares after him, shoulders sagging, still holding the checklist, but Chief just smiles softly and shakes his head. This time, it's ok.

*

By the time he actually gets to sickbay, she's asleep. He's showered and changed and somebody (he thinks it was Boomer, but his mind is a blur and he can't remember) forced him to eat a plate of something or other before he could get away from them.

He's standing beside her bed, watching her. Her face cringes every now and then in her sleep and it makes his guts twist. He picks up her hand, holding it in both of his. She stirs.

"Hey," she says, voice thick and crusty and a goofy ass smile plastered on her face when she sees him.

"Hey." He feels like his heart is going to hammer through his chest.

Her eyes are drifting shut again, but she gives his fingers a squeeze. He doesn't want her to sleep. He wants something... anything. He wants her to cut him with another Starbuck zinger so he can feel her really here, alive, right now. He reaches forward to smooth her hair, petting the lock that's already perfectly tucked behind her ear.

"I'm drugged out of my frakkin' mind," she says jovially, jolted back awake by the touch of his fingers.

"I noticed," he smirks. He just wants her to keep talking. "You get that bath yet?"

She hisses a sleepy little cackle against the top of her mouth.

"Outta luck, Apollo," she slurs. "Cottle wouldn't let me through the door until I was clean. Always late," she says, her face warmer and more open than he's used to. Always late... yeah, that just about summed him up when it came to Kara Thrace.

Ishay appears in the crack in the curtain, carrying a chair that she sets down behind him. He thanks her and sits down as she disappears with a little smile.

"So," he says, finding his voice once more, "you gonna tell me that story?"

She shakes her head. "Deal."

He's glad she remembers, even through the morpha. It makes his heart swell. He wonders how quickly his face keeps flashing between worry and utter jubilation. He can't _frakkin'_ help it.

"Well, I didn't have time to think of anything yet."

"Lame."

They pause for the moment, her hand in both of his and his palms rubbing warmth into her skin. She just lets him. Gods, he hasn't touched her like this in so long...

"Tell me, though. I'm curious."

"Psh," she shifts around, trying to get comfortable. She can't move very far with her leg wrapped up in that thing. She shifts her shoulders and her eyes are drifting shut once more. "Made a deal."

"I know. All right, all right. I'll keep my end of the bargain."

Her eyes close and her breathing evens out. He makes to pull his hand away and leave, feeling suddenly self-consciously out of place. She grabs tighter, holding him there.

"Stay," she says, not even opening her eyes.

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the bed beside her leg.

"Will you stay?"

"I... ok," he finally says.

She smiles and settles back further against the pillow.

"I thought you were gone," he whispers under his breath.

"Oh, Lee," she says as if talking to a silly child. "I always come back."

*

He's still got a crick in his neck from where he fell asleep with his head on her bed last night. She made sure to muss his hair as much as possible at some point while he was sleeping, and he suspects she still had that Cylon goo on her hands when she did it because he can't get it to lie flat all morning. He'd left early as he had rotations to schedule and CAP to fly. He didn't have the heart to wake her.

Ishay corrals him before he can make it to Starbuck's bed, cloistering him near the entrance.

"Captain, see if you can get her to sleep again."

"Has she not been sleeping?"

"She's sleeps, but only if we make her. Cottle's knocked her out twice today but she's trying her damnedest to stay awake. She needs her rest, Captain, and I just--"

"Leave it to me," he says.

Kara's halfway propped up on the pillow and looks as if she's tried to escape numerous times only to find herself unable to move. She visibly relaxes when she sees him, giving him the impression that she'd been in the middle of another jail break. He sets his hands on his hips and she quirks her chin at him.

"Starbuck, you need to rest."

"That an order, sir?"

"I can make it one if I have to."

"M'leg hurts."

"I know. And if you sleep, it'll get better."

"Can't sleep. I'm all squished. Been lyin' around too long. And m'leg hurts."

"Doc won't give you any more drugs."

"Frak you."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"Messenger," she giggles ridiculously at the word. "That's funny."

He has no idea what's so funny about it. When her giggles finally slow down she takes a deep breath through her nose. "M'leg hurts."

"Quit squirming."

"Can't." She squirms just to prove it.

"Will you sleep if I stay?"

She nods like an obstinate child striking a deal.

"I've got work to do, but I'll be back tonight. You promise me you'll sleep all afternoon?"

"Uh-huh."

"If you don't Ishay will tell me and I'll leave."

She scrunches up her nose and sticks out her tongue. He can't help but smile, his hand going automatically to her hair. He lets his fingers caress the strands for a while until her eyes close and her breathing evens out again.

"Lee," he hears as he makes it to the curtains. "You'll come back."

He grins at her. "I always come back."

*

She's lying down when he walks in, pulling the curtains closed behind him.

"Hey you," she says, her eyes more in focus than they have been since she first dropped out of the Raider. "I was wondering if you'd come."

"Cottle said I had to."

"Oh, such a chore."

"Yeah, well."

She flops her hands into her lap and lets out a breath in a huff.

"Tell me a story."

"Hm?"

"Tell me what happened," she says, slapping her hand on the mattress and then holding it out for him. He steps forward and takes it. She's clearly on some cogent cycle of the fun drugs.

"Oh. Right," He pauses a minute. "Let's see. You crashed obviously."

She rolls her eyes at him and waits.

"Ok, so um... you crashed. And then you had to shoot it out with the Cylon raider Tauron-style. And um..."

She's giggling saw hard he has to stop, his own face breaking out in a grin.

"What?"

"Tauron-style? Really Lee, it's not like they have shootouts in the streets."

"And how would you know?"

"Lived there for three years when I was a kid, didn't I?"

"I don't know. Did you?"

"Your story sucks, Lee."

"I'm still workin' on it."

He hasn't sat down yet, and she just looks him in the eye, smiling through her drug-induced haze.

"My leg hurts."

"No frakkin' shit."

"Stay?"

"Kara, I--"

But she's inching over, making room and holding up the sheet for him to slip in, and he can't say no to her blazingly open face. So he pulls off his boots and lies down beside her, arm wrapped around her shoulders as she tucks herself against him.

"Frak," she says.

"What?"

She's wriggling, nudging at him, unable to get comfortable.

"What? Kara, what?"

"Roll over."

"Huh?"

"Over. Get on this side of me," she says, patting the space beside her on the other side.

"Um... ok. Why?"

"Just _do_ it. Gods, you ask questions about everything."

He grumbles but makes to get up. She grabs his arm. "Just _roll_."

He gives her a look but she doesn't back down. Which is how he suddenly finds himself pinning Kara Thrace to a hospital bed, one arm on either side of her head as he tries to shift his weight across her. His legs are tangled in the sheet. She's smirking up at him with those eyes of hers, scrunching her nose at him, and it hits him again just how frakkin' _alive_ she is. He wonders if she'd hit him if he kissed her. He wonders if she'd even remember that he kissed her once she was off the drugs.

"Ok," she giggles. "Get off now," she says. The moment passes and he slides to her right.

She turns against him, the inflatable cast wrapping her leg squeaking and squealing as she rolls to her side.

"Kara, I don't think--"

"Doesn't hurt. Well, not any more than the other way."

"You're gonna frak up your knee and _I'm_ going to get in trouble for it."

She's nestled into his chest and his arms wrap around her without even thinking. She's warm against him.

"Can't handle the pressure?"

"Your ass is so grounded."

"Thanks for the info, sir."

She's drifting off to sleep. He lies there with her and even when his arm goes numb sometime in the night he can't bring himself to stir her.

*

Lee comes back after flight brief that morning. Hot Dog picked up Starbuck's rotation today, apparently as penance. If it made him feel better to make up for his stupidity with a little extra work, Lee wasn't about to complain.

Cottle waves him over.

"Get her to sleep again, son. Preferably on her back this time."

Lee blushes, realizing just how many people must know about last night.

He stands outside the curtains, pulling them back and peeking through at her. She's asleep, her lips quirking in pain every now and then. She's strewn across the bed at such a weird angle that he wonders how it was even possible for her to get that way. He imagines, if he woke her, she'd say it was more comfortable (or something equally ridiculous). He fights to urge to go to her, determined not to make a spectacle of himself.

"She's already asleep," he says. Cottle's look is sardonically unamused. Lee tries to steady himself, but can't bring himself to enter her little patch of space. Not this time. He turns on his heel and leaves. Cottle grumbles after him.

*

He checks in on her that night. She's awake and still. Her eyes are half closed, staring at some fixed point in space. She looks unaccountably sad.

"Hey."

She looks at him, lids fluttering. "'Sup."

"How you doin'?"

"Been better. Well, been worse too."

"Here." He's pushing at her unhurt leg and her eyebrows draw together.

"What?"

"Lie straight.

"Frak that. It hurts."

"You're knee will heel backwards and you won't be able to hit the thruster pedal anymore."

Her eyes narrow at him but she allows herself to be rearranged. He works from top to bottom, situating her before grabbing the blanket from where it's pooled around her feet and pulling it up to her chin. Her eyes haven't left his. He's struck by them, now, staring up at him. He has to look away.

"Just some pilot-y concern from the CAG?"

"Sure."

He makes to move back but her arm shoots out, snagging his. Their eyes meet again. "Stay."

He sits down in the chair, sliding his wrist until he can hold her hand. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've got... work."

"It's late, Lee."

"I can't this time. I'll be back in the morning."

He pats her hand before letting it drop back to the mattress and leaves without looking her in the eye.

That night, he tosses in his bunk, thinking of her lying there in sickbay drugged to her eyeballs and trying to sleep.

*

He's hiding behind the curtain. Well, not hiding, but peeking around it. She's playing solitaire. He wonders if maybe she'd like a book, but he can't imagine Starbuck reading. Her eyes flit up to his and hold. She just smirks. She doesn't even have to say anything.

He clears his throat and steps inside, straightening his jacket.

"How are you today?"

"Not as drugged as I was yesterday."

He smirks. He can't help it. Even when he tries not to she pulls it right out of him. He imagines that she can read him as clearly as a neon sign lit up in the dead of night. Right now, he's ok with that.

"So," she says, swiping all the cards together in a pile and tapping them against her thigh to straighten the edges. "I've heard some stories today."

He tries to look confused. Tries to throw her off the scent. "Stories?"

"Mmhm. About someone I know redeploying the CAP. And using up half the fuel reserves."

"Yeah? Who'd tell you stories like that?"

He's not looking at her so she knows it's true. He's picking at a wrinkle in her sheets.

"That was a frakkin' stupid thing to do, Lee."

He pins her with his eyes. "You'd have done the same for me."

He's surprised when she holds his gaze, steady and serious. "I know. Doesn't mean it wasn't stupid. Probably makes it more stupid, actually."

His lips curl up in a tiny smile.

She looks away finally, snuffling. Her nose has been running since she fell out of the belly of that stinking machine, battered and reeking and covered from head to toe in Cylon goo.

"You gonna stay?"

He sees how this will play out. Cottle obviously was down-sizing her dosage. It's back to that dangerous game of nose-to-nose push and pull that they play. Sometimes he just wishes one of them would slip. Most of the time he's terrified that they will. Right now, he doesn't give a damn. He holds out his hand.

"What?"

He just holds it there. She puts the deck of cards in it and he sets them aside on the bedside table where she can reach them, then holds his hand out for her again. Her cheeks color and she takes a heavy breath through her nose. She lifts her hand and carefully settles her fingers on top of his. He catches her in a firm, warm grip. His eyes haven't left her face.

"I won't leave you."

And he won't. He never will. He never could.


End file.
